


eating is a necessity (cooking is an art)

by orphan_account



Series: Christmas au [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, More trash, Sorry Not Sorry, hamiltrash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	eating is a necessity (cooking is an art)

The sweet scent of cinnamon that just screamed the Christmas seasoned wafted pleasantly through the elegant apartment of Gilbert du Montier de Lafayette as he settled into his lounge chair with a glass of wine. The only goal in mind being to relax after a stressing day of going over plans for the next play he would be taking part in. Luckily Mr. Washington was willing to send his favorite pupil home early.

Stretching much like a cat would, Gilbert had just gotten himself comfortable and was about to turn on his television when the bitter scent of something burning interrupted his small bubble of peace. He wrinkled his noise as he finished his wine and stood from the warmth of his couch. 

“Honestly, if you don’t know how to cook, take a class elsewhere,” He grumbled with only a small pout before grabbing his warmest cardigan (the hallways weren’t heated very well) and deciding to go investigate.

It didn’t take him long to find the source of the scent as his neighbor was currently complaining rather loudly about how he was wasting heat, but he needed to get rid of the smell through the open window. Chuckling softly, Gilbert raised his hand to knock politely on his neighbor’s door, twirling a loose strand of ginger hair around his finger as he waited patiently.

~~~~~~~~~

Hamilton glowered at the charred tray of cookies currently residing on his counter. The recipe glowing on his laptop monitor seemed to mock him from where it sat further down the counter. He could write his way into a full-ride scholarship, but he couldn’t make a simple tray of chocolate chip cookies! What kind of human was he?

Obviously one who failed at life because he couldn’t even make himself cookies.

He wasn’t even quite sure what led to him actually attempting to make food for himself, but he figured now was as good a time as any for him to start learning. So he picked something simple. Nothing harder than chocolate chip cookies, right? Right? Wrong. It was the worse experience ever and Hamilton vowed to leave that job to the professionals from then on.

Tray of burnt remains in hand, the last thing Alexander expected was for someone to knock on his door. Like, c’mon it’s almost ten at night. Okay, maybe he was being a hypocrite, but it was one thing for him to be awake this late. Someone knocking on his door was another thing.

With a huff of protest, the Scotsman went to the door instead of the trashcan because maybe the sight of his failure would scare whoever the nuisance was off.

He opened his door, expecting some punkass kids, but what he didn’t expect was his gorgeous French neighbor, who he has seen a handful of times on campus. Unfortunately a political science major and a theater major aren’t on the same sides of the expansive New York College. It was a real shame, though, because he would love to get to know the other male better. Maybe they could converse in French.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ Hi, I’m your neighbor and I couldn’t help, but notice something was burning and are those supposed to be cookies? My name is Gilbert du Montier de Lafayette and I know we just met, but a home should not smell so bitter, allow me.” 

Alexander could hardly register the words being said much less the freckled male brushing past him. It wasn’t until he heard his cabinets being opened and closed that he finally just accepted it and closed his door behind him.

Assuming that this was just some sort of dream that his roommate John would tease him for when he returned from South Carolina, Hamilton slowly entered the kitchen to watch the French transfer bustle around, murmuring about how he couldn’t believe that he (meaning Alex) was using the internet to bake cookies.

“You shouldn’t put so much trust in the Internet, especially when it comes to cooking. The time is wrong on here so that’s why your cookies burned. Plus, you have to get a personal feel for how you like you cookies,” Gilbert hummed as he mixed together the dough, “I tend to like mine with a little extra chocolate and I cook them less to keep them doughy. But it’s just a personal preference.”

Alex laughed softly at his neighbor’s antics after he threw away his disgrace and decided to lean against the doorway to watch the other work diligently. Maybe the Frenchman should have been a culinary major instead, not that the Scotsman had ever seen the taller male act before. “I’ll trust you then,” He mused, “I honestly just wanted a sweet treat to get me through this twenty-page paper I have to right for my debate tomorrow.”

“Debate? I assumed you’re on the debate team then. Who are you debating?” 

A scowl settled over the shorter male’s features as he thought about his opponent, practically spitting out his words, “Thomas Jefferson. The debate team president, Washington, thought it would be a good idea to pair us up because we disagree on everything. I swear that rich Virginia is the most arrogant and egotistical man I have ever met.”

Lafayette snorted at that, balling up the cookie dough in perfect balls to place on the cookie trays he had managed to dig up, “Ah, Jefferson. I know of him and I will agree that he is quite pig-headed when it comes to his opinions, but you must not have met George William Frederick, or George the Third as he likes to be referred to as in the drama department, yet. He is a terror that I can’t wait to be brought down. He makes practice feel like some sort of monarchy whenever Mr. Washington is not around.”

Intrigued, Alexander sauntered over to lean against the counter instead so he could converse more with the ginger. “Oh really? You should tell me more while we eat these cookies together. I definitely can’t eat all of them and you _did_ say this was how you preferred your cookies.” 

“I thought you had a twenty-paged paper to write,” the twinkle in Lafayette’s gaze as he turned to face the Scotsman revealed that he wasn’t going to say no and Alexander couldn’t help but laugh.

“More like I have a thirty-paged paper to downsize.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a sucker for Hamilton x Lafayette, so sorry to the Lams shippers. (both are historically hinted at so I guess you could swing either way) Cookies sound so good right now, though.


End file.
